


Settling on the Farm & Fun in the Barn

by Neuroharlot



Series: Farmyard Future (FitzBirch) [1]
Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Dominance, Dominatrix, F/F, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Happy, Lesbian Sex, Morning Sex, My First Smut, No Lesbians Die, Praise Kink, Smut, Spanking, Submission, Teasing, Ten Years Later, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuroharlot/pseuds/Neuroharlot
Summary: Several years after Season 3 - Isabella and Nancy settle down on the farm.
Relationships: Nancy Birch & Isabella Fitzwilliam, Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam
Series: Farmyard Future (FitzBirch) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004355
Comments: 22
Kudos: 17





	1. Falling Into You

The wind whistled through the gaps in the barn doors. It was a blustery Autumnal afternoon in the chocolate-box village of Ashwell, Hertforshire. The fiery reds and oranges of fallen leaves adorned the farmyard which looked picture perfect in the crisp, clear air. Giggling could be heard through the cracks in the heavy, rustic, wooden doors. Sophia peeped through the small gaps, gesturing a small ‘Shhh’ motion with her finger upon her lips to a small boy by her side, who had his hand in hers. Sophia stifled a chuckle, then rolled her eyes and pulled the boy away gently.

“Come on – let’s get inside and have some soup!” she smiled, as they ran together towards the large, red brick farmhouse.

_________________________________________________________________________

Isabella and Nancy were supposed to be cleaning the stables, but they had become rather distracted, which was the source of their impish giggling. Nancy was stood gallantly on a tall pile of hay bales. Nancy was scandalously confident, but Isabella could see the top hay bale was balanced precariously on top of the unstable structure.

“Nance, get down from there!” She yelled, half playful, half concerned. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Nah, I’ve got the balance of a fine farm cat, don’t cha know?” Nancy chortled, tipping her trusty tricorn hat and standing on one leg.

Isabella huffed. She knew how stubborn Nancy could be and she could tell she was wasting her breath. She settled on a hay bale much closer to the ground and hitched up her skirts revealing knee high laced boots.

Isabella had changed very much in the last ten years. She had swapped her fine regal attire for more practical skirts and boots. She no longer wore her hair piled high atop her head, but she left it loose, the gentle wave of dark hair falling around her shoulders. She couldn’t imagine going about the farm in her luxurious gowns and dainty shoes. Plus, without her status to uphold, she didn’t need to make such an impression anymore. Nancy, on the other hand, was dressed much the same as usual. Dark breeches, a loose beige shirt billowing around her arms and a tight black waistcoat adorned Nancy’s slender frame. Her usual cavalier boots had been replaced with tall tan riding boots. Her birch was nowhere to be seen but she did often enjoy carrying a riding crop in the side of her breeches.

Isabella posed on the hay bale ruffling her skirts higher, revealing her pale legs. She looked demure peering down at her own legs then looking up at Nancy with her long, seductive lashes.

“Won’t you come down here, Nancy Birch?” she asked, in a low voice.

Nancy felt a rush of heat flush her face. The sight of Isabella’s plump thighs still made her head spin. She growled under her breath, feeling an excited tingling racing around her body and settling between her own thighs. Losing her cool composure, and her balance, Nancy tumbled down from the top of the hay bale. The pile of hay disappeared from beneath her as she toppled clumsily onto the floor, her hat flying off behind her. Thankfully, Nancy’s fall was cushioned by a pile of hay at Isabella’s feet.

“Argh,” Nancy complained, as she rubbed her bruised elbow quickly.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you”. Isabella retorted, haughtily.

Nancy brushed the straw and hay from her waistcoat and breeches and flipped over onto her back, stray strands of straw sticking out of her raven black hair in a ragged fashion.

“At least I landed on my feet eh?” Nancy spoke with a devilish grin. Her head was now positioned at Isabella’s feet. She peeked up Isabella’s ruffled skirts and caught a cheeky glimpse of her pretty pink closed clam.

“Nancy Birch!” Isabella cried, disapprovingly, as she swatted towards Nancy, but she didn’t move her legs an inch, affording Nancy all the view she wanted.

“The only good thing about these bloody skirts…” Nancy muttered.

Isabella parted her legs a little more, revealing herself to Nancy but remaining silent. She loved the wicked look of lust in Nancy’s eyes. Even after all this time, Nancy still worshipped her like a queen.

Nancy flipped over quickly, positioning herself on all fours, like the clever cat she had referred to earlier. She wetted her lips with her tongue and breathed in Isabella’s intoxicating musky scent as she slowly moved closer and closer to her prized jewel.

She reached up Isabella’s skirts and firmly grasped her ample hips, digging her nails in a little to offer that little nip of pain she knew drove Isabella wild since she had learned of the pleasure of a good spanking many years before. Isabella let out a whimper as she tossed her head back.

“What d’ya want, Bella?” Nancy asked. “Tell me…” She growled.

“I want you…” Isabella whined, as her breathing quickened.

Nancy didn’t need telling twice. She planted a lusty kiss on Isabella’s inner thigh, sucking just enough to cause a little pain and leaving a purple mark to remind her she was hers. Isabella gasped and gripped the hay bale beneath her.

“Don’t tease me, Nance,” Isabella pleaded. She already felt the hot wetness between her thighs, threatening to escape.

Nancy did indeed tease her some more. She breathed her hot breath over Isabella’s sex, gently trailing her fingers around her clit, just enough to leave her panting for more.

“Fuck me, Nancy… Please…” Isabella whined.

Nancy obliged. She plunged her face between Isabella’s thighs and slurped hungrily. She circled Isabella’s bud with her pointed tongue whilst navigating her fingers in and out of her quim. Isabella trembled at her touch. Nancy growled as she worked deftly, her carnal instinct leading the way. Nancy felt her own centre grow hot. Bringing pleasure to Isabella never failed to drive her mad with passion. Her very core pulsated, spurring her on, speeding her up.

“I’m close, Nance…” Isabella moaned, her eyes closed in total bliss. Soon, she was convulsing and completely spent, splayed across the hay bale, fighting to catch her breath.

Nancy pulled away, leaving Isabella’s skirts dishevelled so her delicious thighs were still exposed. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and released a satisfied sigh. Nancy straddled Isabella and tipped her head upward by the chin. She eagerly kissed Isabella’s lips deeply, transferring the sweet and salty taste to her lover. Isabella responded passionately, quietly moaning and wrapping her arms around Nancy’s waist.

Nancy slowly started to move rhythmically against Isabella’s lap. Her eyes rolled back as she rode Isabella fervently, grinding herself against her. The friction was building between her and the clothing that lay between them. She knew it wouldn’t take long. She was already brimming with animal desire after pleasing her love. Isabella lowered her hands to Nancy’s hips, guiding her with each rhythmic thrust.

“I love you, Nancy Birch,” Isabella whispered into Nancy’s neck.

Nancy shuddered and with a jolt of ecstasy pulsing through her entire body, she collapsed on Isabella, burying her head into her ample breasts.

Nancy wondered how she had come to be here, how she had deserved the true and committed love of such a kind, classy and unbelievably voluptuous lady of such high standing.

They stayed for a moment, Isabella’s arms wrapped gently around Nancy’s slim body, Nancy panting into Isabella’s neck and drinking in her sweet scent like glorious nectar.

“Look at the mess!” Isabella exclaimed, after peering around the barn.

“Worth it though, m’lady.” Nancy spoke gruffly.

A shiver shot down Isabella’s spine. Although she had shed most of her regal ‘lady’ characteristics, she still loved to hear the term uttered from Nancy’s mouth.

“Come on, let’s get inside. Sophia will become impatient if we don’t return soon. James will be wondering where we are too.” Isabella said, while standing and rearranging her skirts.

Nancy brushed down her clothes too, and found her hat hiding among the hay. She perched it atop her head and smiled. “Let’s go.” she said, holding her hand out to Isabella.

They smiled and sighed, leaving the mess for another day.


	2. Home Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the cosy nest and the home birds that reside there.

Isabella and Nancy approached the red brick farmhouse hand in hand. The sky was becoming dull and grey as dusk crept ever closer. As they arrived at the black painted door, which was slightly ajar, Nancy slowed a little, and pushed a hand gently at the small of Isabella’s back, guiding her into the bright warmth of the country kitchen. The stove radiated residual heat from Sophia heating soup for herself and her brother a little earlier. It made entering the kitchen feel like a warm hug.

“I’ll fix us some tea, love,” Nancy said, with a swift kiss on Isabella’s rosy cheek. She grasped the heavy cast iron pot and fired up the stove.

Isabella looked down, blushed, and smiled warmly. She was so content.

“Thanks, Nance,” she began. “I’ll check on the two of them.” she said, gesturing upwards.

Nancy busied herself with pots and cups while Isabella disappeared up the old oak staircase.

Isabella paused for a moment at the top of the staircase, holding still so her presence could not be detected. She could hear Sophia’s excited and enthusiastic voice coming from behind the bedroom door.

“And then… the Prince jumped on his handsome grey steed and they galloped through the deep dark forest!” Sophia’s voice echoed through the large hallway.

Isabella instinctively lifted her hand to her heart and set it there for a moment, taking a deep breath and grinning from ear to ear. She couldn’t believe she was so happy.

Sophia was enchanting Oliver with one of her made up stories. She made the clip clop sound of horse’s hooves with her cupped hands as Oliver squealed with glee.

Nancy and Isabella had adopted Oliver a year ago, and him and Sophia had got along straight away. She had taken him under her wing and her own inherited maternal streak had well and truly exposed itself. It made Isabella feel so proud to see the way she cared for him and thrilled him with her stories. Oliver was six years old now. He had been welcomed into the home after Isabella had begged to raise a child with Nancy by her side.

“Oh, Nance, you’d be so great with a child,” she had pleaded, flashing her large, persuasive eyes at Nancy. “I want to grow our family together”. Nancy had grumbled and feigned resistance, but deep inside her heart glowed at the prospect of caring for a vulnerable young child, providing all the opportunities she had dreamt of as a youngster.

Isabella paused outside the room, and gently tapped on the wooden door. Sophia instantly ceased her storytelling.

“Yes?” Sophia asked, a little sternness in her voice.

Isabella pushed the door open and peered around to see Sophia and Oliver sat opposite one another on the floor.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Isabella said, smiling. “That sounded like a wonderful story! Were you enjoying it, Oliver?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically; his entire body alive with the magic of Sophia’s story.

“Mother, you shouldn’t be listening in!” Sophia frowned.

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Oh Sophia, do not be embarrassed. You are so gifted. You will make a wonderful mother someday, should that be what you choose.” She smiled softly and swayed towards the pair. She placed a hand softly on Sophia’s cheek and stroked it with her thumb, before turning to Oliver and affectionately ruffling his vibrant ginger hair. He giggled infectiously and his cheeks glowed almost as brightly as his hair.

“Nancy will make dinner soon,” Isabella announced. “I’ll leave you two to it…” she finished with a wink. Isabella turned, left the room and gently closed the door behind her.

Isabella entered the kitchen again, which was now a hive of pleasant comfort. Nancy was stood with one hand on her hip, looking out of the small sash window, her head tilted to one side. She was singing wistfully. It was a folky tune, that worked with Nancy’s dulcet quality.

_**Hi! says the blackbird, sitting on a chair,  
Once I courted a lady fair;  
She proved fickle and turned her back,  
And ever since then I'm dressed in black.** _

Isabella was captivated and sat down at the rustic table, propping her head up with her hand. She closed her eyes as she let Nancy’s melody wash over her.

_**Hi! says the little leather winged bat,  
I will tell you the reason that,  
The reason that I fly in the night  
Is because I lost my heart's delight.** _

_**Hi! says the little mourning dove,  
I'll tell you how to gain her love;  
Court her night and court her day,  
Never give her time to say "Oh nay."** _

Nancy, sensing Isabella’s stare, turned around with blushed cheeks. She would often sing but it was a little disconcerting feeling Isabella’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Please don’t stop,” Isabella implored sleepily. “You sing beautifully.”

Nancy grinned, feeling a not uncomfortable heat rise and flush her face. She slowly swaggered over to Isabella, looking into her eyes as she continued her song.

_**Hi! says the robin, with a little squirm,  
** **I wish I had a great, big worm;**  
 **I would fly away into my nest;**  
 **I have a wife I think is the best.**_

Isabella giggled shyly at the lyrics. She blushed at the way the song implied Isabella was Nancy’s wife. She liked the metaphor. This home was their nest… Safe and comforting and filled with love and respect. It was a far cry from both Isabella’s and Nancy’s former lives.

As Nancy finished the final line of the song, she reached out, took Isabella’s arm gently and peppered it with little kisses, starting at the tip of her fingers and planting tender kisses all the way up to her upper arm.

“My pretty little robin, ain’t cha?” she whispered huskily.

Isabella wrapped her arms around Nancy’s slight, angular frame and pulled her close until she was sitting in her lap.

“And you are mine.” She rested her head against Nancy’s chest. She could feel the contours of Nancy’s small breasts beneath the diaphanous fabric of her blouse. But even more beautiful was the steady rhythm of Nancy’s heartbeat pulsing in her ear. A sigh escaped Isabella’s lips as Nancy twirled Isabella’s brunette locks around her fingers.

“I’d better fix some dinner. Are you hungry, Bell?”

“I feel rather full up actually.” Isabella said, against Nancy’s chest. “But we need to feed the two rascals upstairs.”

It was a far simpler life, without the endless maids, cooks and servants. It was a life they preferred. Nancy would usually cook, although Isabella had learned over the years how to serve a simple meal. She had been conditioned to be waited upon from childhood, and it was a difficult condition to break away from. It was lucky that Nancy enjoyed the household chores and took great pleasure in caring for the family, even though she did feign crankiness on occasion.

Nancy broke away from Isabella and gathered the ingredients she needed from the pantry.

“Call the little ‘un down, Bell. It’s about time he learned to help his Ma with the cooking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from The Bird Song - Lesley Nelson-Burns. This is directly related to The Birds Harmony, published in 1681-2. I cherry picked certain verses as they seemed to fit Nancy so well, from her loss of Margaret and finding her robin, Isabella.


	3. 'My Good Girl'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia takes care of Oliver, allowing Nancy and Isabella some quality time in bed on a cold winter's morning. Isabella wakes up to Nancy fantasising beside her. But of course, it's Isabella's fault for being such a tantalising doxy, and so she must be punished.

As sure as the day turns to night, the fiery reds and golds of the farm were transitioning to bare branches, grey-white skies and muddy ground. The tapping of substantial raindrops on the single glazed window echoed throughout the large room. An opulent four poster bed was situated at one side of the room. The bed sheets were floral and heavy, speckled with pink roses and pale green vines – Isabella’s choice of linens of course. Beneath the rhythmic and subtle rising and falling of the bedclothes lay the two women, sound asleep.

Isabella was still softly snoring when Nancy roused. Nancy propped herself up on her elbows and peered over the thick quilt to see her lover’s face. Her jaw was relaxed as she breathed steadily. Her raven curls framed her face on the pillow, not unlike a halo. Nancy’s heart swelled and she revealed a small smirk to herself. Leaning down gently, Nancy planted a kiss on Isabella’s slightly parted lips.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispered even more huskily than usual. The air was cold around them and Nancy hadn’t cleared her throat yet so as to not startle Isabella awake. She pulled away, eyes fixated on the lips she had just touched with hers. Isabella began to stir gradually. Groggy from the broken night of sleep, she rubbed her eyes and released a quiet yawn. Her eyelids lifted leisurely, her vision blurred at first, before she saw Nancy staring at her lips. Isabella’s sleepy face contorted into a half smile.

“What are you looking at Ms Birch?” she enquired playfully.

“Just takin’ ya all in. You look…” Nancy hesitated for a moment and cleared her throat. “You’re beautiful Bella.”

Isabella blushed, her cheeks almost reaching the same shade of pink as the roses on the quilt.

The moment of treasure was suddenly interrupted by a small knock at the door, before it opened cautiously. Sophia peered around the door, fully dressed in gown and boots. Her strawberry blonde hair was styled neatly, a few stray curls falling around her face. Since moving to the farm, the servants and maids had been dismissed with a hefty redundancy. Sophia had most enjoyed choosing her own clothes each day and learning to style her own hair.

Nancy grasped the floral bed sheets rapidly and pulled them over her chest frantically. She was covered loosely in a simple shift, but she was still conscious of her angular body being on show in front of Sophia.

“Sophia!” Isabella exclaimed. “What time is it?!”

Isabella was clearly surprised at Sophia’s tidy appearance so early in the morning compared to her own dishevelment.

“It’s almost eight,” Sophia started. “I thought I would take Oliver to school this morning. I’m going to meet Hannah at Rutland Gardens, then she has a carriage to take us Covent Garden for the afternoon. You look like you have both had a difficult night.” she said, gesturing to Isabella’s bedraggled state.

“Oliver had a bad dream,” Nancy interjected. “Your Ma insisted she stay with him until he was restin’ sound.”

“Well, you two should try to get a little more sleep. I will take care of things this morning.” Sophia said with pride. She smiled, feeling satisfied that she could shoulder some of the responsibility for her little brother. It would also mean she could treat him to another magical story without either of them overhearing.

“Thank you, my darling Sophia.” Isabella smiled, blowing her daughter a kiss.

Sophia closed the door, the click of the mechanism echoing through the room.

“Well, well, well…” muttered Nancy. “A rare treat!” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. The pair scarcely had much quality time together since they had adopted Oliver. They were often busy keeping him entertained, whilst maintaining the farmhouse and the land all around. Without the domestic assistance Isabella had been accustomed to, she was often exhausted and too weary to indulge in her own idea of entertainment!

Isabella grunted gruffly. “Get more sleep. That is what Sophia said.” She rolled over, abandoning her head heavily on the plump feather pillow.

Nancy rolled her eyes to the heavens. “When did ya get so sensible? Crafty mare.”

She peeked down at Isabella again, noticing her ruffled white chemise had fallen off her shoulder, exposing her pale, freckled skin. Nancy gnawed at her bottom lip dolefully. She slipped into fantasy while Isabella rested beside her.

**_Nancy trailed a long finger over the curve of Isabella’s shoulder. She tugged at the flimsy fabric, pulling it lower. Isabella shuddered and rolled over enthusiastically, meeting Nancy’s lips for a kiss. The tenderness of her lover’s kiss caused a groan to escape from Nancy’s lips._ **

Nancy’s imaginary groan accidentally verbalised. Isabella, disturbed by the sound, twitched as she readjusted herself in the bed and pulled the covers tightly around her bare shoulder.

 _Blasted addle-plot!_ Nancy thought to herself. Frustrated, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and closed her eyes, willing her imagination to return to the fantasy task at hand.

**_Isabella kissed Nancy deeply, tongue probing, dancing, with hers. Isabella was fire. Nancy, exasperated with the desperate wanting, firmly pushed a hand through Isabella’s rampant curls and clutched the back of her head, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Their lips and noses bumped as they moved frantically. Nancy reached out to Isabella, cupping her ample breasts through the sheer fabric with both hands. Rolling her fingers deftly over her lover’s nipples, she moaned into her mouth. Isabella gasped and tossed her head backwards, exposing the delicate, porcelain flesh of her throat. Leaving one hand to fondle her breasts, Nancy grasped Isabella’s neck, her sharp nails lightly scratching the delectable skin. She plunged forwards to kiss her throat, beginning beneath her chin and clumsily kissing and nibbling down to the Lady’s chest._ **

Nancy gripped the bed sheets lustfully as she daydreamed. Before she knew it, she had worked herself up so much that she found her hand wandering and resting between her own legs. The dark wisps of hair were already damp with arousal. She knew she shouldn’t touch. She should wait. But the prospect of pressure applied in just the right place was irresistibly tantalising. Nancy pressed her palm against herself and groaned loudly, raising her hips sharply.

This time, Isabella roused, startled by the loud guttural moan. She rolled over to face Nancy.

 _Shit!_ Nancy thought. She quickly removed her hand from between her thighs and placed it on her lap.

“Nance! What in God’s name are you doing?” Isabella’s accusatory tone alarmed Nancy. The sleepy state was no more. Isabella was wide awake. She lifted the bed clothes from Nancy’s lap to see her white shift ruched up around her bony hips, her pubic area shining with wetness. As the winter sun peeked from behind the grey clouds, Isabella could see more clearly the glossy moisture on the insides of her thighs.

Isabella thought to be angry at first, feeling left out from the fun. But an unexpected wave of arousal overcame her. A flash of imagination flooded her mind – Nancy watching her and imagining what they could do together. She shuddered at the thought, and the annoyance dissipated. It was replaced with a wicked and wild feeling of desire.

“I… I…” Nancy struggled. She considered denying what she had done but thought better of it. There was no denying where the moist patches of skin and hair originated from.

“What _have_ you been doing?” Isabella asked in a low, smooth drawl. A devilish smirk decorated her face. “Were you thinking about me?” She asked, mock incredulity in her voice. She trailed a long finger gently along Nancy’s slit, and gasped as the wet arousal coated her skin. 

Nancy dropped her head, a warm flush of redness filling her cheeks in the cold air of morning. “I – I’m sorry Isabella. But you’re also responsible.” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Shouldn’t be so fuckin’ beautiful should ya? Leavin’ me to look ‘atcha bare skin like that, had me achin’ for ya. It should be a crime to be so enchanting. Bawdy jade.” she hissed.

A gravelly chuckle emerged from Isabella’s throat. “Well then Ms Birch, perhaps I ought to be punished?” she replied, one eyebrow raised as if in challenge.

“Gladly.” Nancy sneered. “Come here m’lady. You’ve been a wicked doxy.”

Isabella obeyed. She pushed the bedclothes back before lifting the lacy hem of her chemise. She straddled Nancy and arched her back as she edged her face closer to hers. “Now what?” she enquired? Isabella’s words tickled Nancy’s face, teased her lips with her hot breath.

Nancy gulped. “Now, you take off that lacy abomination.” she snarled. “So I can see ya properly.”

Again, Isabella obeyed, lifting the chemise over her head and dropping the sheer fabric onto the floor. She looked at Nancy’s face and saw a wave of satisfaction wash over her. Nancy devoured the vision before her, gorging on each part of her bare body. The abundant breasts garnished with two pale pink peaks, the smooth, pale skin of her torso, the curvature of her hips, the neat curls of dark hair that rested between her thighs.

“My good girl,” Nancy muttered, her eyes feasting on the Venus before her.

Isabella lowered her eyelids. Electricity shot through her veins at the notion of being Nancy’s good girl. Belonging to her. Pleasing her. She reached out to lift Nancy’s shift from her body. Nancy slapped her hand away. “No. Not til’ I say so. Criminals will be treated as such.” she taunted.

A frustrated moan resonated from deep inside Isabella’s chest. “Teasing temptress” she pouted.

Nancy trailed a finger from Isabella’s soft neck, down the centre of her chest, between her breasts, down her stomach, until it hesitated before her aching cunt. Lifting her hand, Nancy bypassed Isabella and moved straight to herself, pressing her palm between her thighs.

“Now where was I?” Nancy sniggered. She slowly ground herself into her palm rhythmically, the movement occasionally bumping Nancy’s knuckles against Isabella’s own clit. The friction was tormenting. She had tried to resist lowering her own hips onto Nancy’s rounded hand, but it had proved futile. Nancy had reprimanded her at first, but as she quickened her pace, she seemed to have forgotten. The rasping moans from Nancy became more frequent and louder until her whole body trembled as the crest of a vast wave crashed over her. She stilled her body and exhaled heavily, controlling her panting and catching her breath.

“What about me?” Isabella begged desperately.

“I’m not sure you’ve suffered quite enough yet, have ya?”

Isabella whimpered. “Come on, Nancy. Please. Enough. You’ve had your fun.”

Grinning, Nancy moved her hand away from them both; it was soaked both top and bottom from the pair. “Turn ya self round then,” she demanded.

Isabella gingerly turned her back on Nancy and settled on her hands and knees. She inverted her back and spread her legs slightly, flashing her impeccably round arse and her pretty pink cunny. She twisted her neck, glaring at Nancy with hungry eyes full of fire, before dropping her head, curls falling with gay abandon around her. Nancy’s eyes widened. She licked her lips with animal desire before caressing those pale curves feverishly. She drew one hand back before allowing it to meet Isabella’s rear with a moderately firm slap that echoed around the cold room. Isabella inhaled sharply, frowning with the blissful pain of the spanking. A red handprint slowly emerged in contrast with the white of her skin.

“Nance, I cannot stand you teasing me any longer!” Isabella exclaimed.

A smug smile adorned Nancy’s face. Isabella was right. Enough teasing already. The poor lady was near begging her for release. Nancy navigated her fingers deftly between her lover’s legs, feeling the slick wetness that enveloped her folds. It did not require much force for Nancy’s skilful fingers to enter Isabella’s hot quim. She plunged two fingers inside and curled them into the soft, warm flesh. Nancy grunted, enthralled by the rhythmic back and forth movement of Isabella’s breasts as she sunk a third finger inside. Isabella released a deep moan at the fingers filling her up, flexing her hips with each thrust.

“Oh, Nance,” she breathed. “You… Are… A wonder.” she whispered in staggered gasps between each entry of Nancy’s dextrous fingers.

Encouraged by her words, Nancy knelt up on the bed, fingers still submerged, and draped herself over Isabella’s bare backside. With her free hand, she reached around the front of the lady’s hips and circled her clit lightly. The warmth of Isabella’s skin radiated through her face and chest. Pleasuring her lady was the finest of gifts. Much like a drug, Nancy was addicted to the high of this moment.

It did not take long for Isabella’s low moans to turn into high pitched whines and kitten-like whimpers. Her explosion of hair stuck to her neck now. Beads of sweat clustered around her face and dripped down her jaw. The juxtaposition of the sweat on her skin and the cold winter air of the unheated room was thrilling to her and only added to her arousal. With a barely audible mewl, Isabella’s sex tightened around Nancy’s fingers in a long, slow climax. She collapsed heavily onto the bed, her chest heaving, Nancy still draped over her.

Nancy swept Isabella’s hair from her neck. “My good girl…” she whispered into her ear.


	4. A New Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a fairly routine day, thanks to Sophia, a new arrival wings its way to the farm.

After a rare morning of sequestered treasure, Isabella and Nancy busied themselves around the farmhouse and surrounding grounds. They worked on the household chores dutifully, but with a sense of true domestic bliss. The two were an efficient partnership. They were away from the hustle and bustle and often dangerous nature of the city, so they did not miss the implied protection from the men in their lives. Anyway, Nancy and her trusty birch (which she kept hidden beneath the bed) were a force to be reckoned with should anything untoward occur on the farm.

Nancy had spent the afternoon preparing a stew made from the winter leeks, potatoes and carrots dug by her own hand from the vegetable patch. She hummed folk tunes as she rinsed and chopped the produce. Isabella had swayed into the warm kitchen quietly and placed an arm around Nancy’s waist. The unexpected contact had startled her, and she had sliced her thumb whilst chopping and was now sporting a messy make-shift bandage fashioned from cotton strips. Isabella had shrieked and apologised profusely before tenderly but clumsily bandaging the wound.

Isabella had engaged in the domestic necessities of running the house too. She had spent the day laundering both Oliver’s and Sophia’s bed clothes. Nancy had taught her the fine art of cleaning her own linens, something she had never spared a moment’s thought for in her whole life. It took a long time for Isabella to scrub the linens clean in the large copper tub. The repetitive and strenuous nature of the job was exhausting for a prior Marchioness who had been surrounded by a myriad of servants, and so she took short breaks between rinsing. She would spend these short intermissions gazing out of the drizzle stained sash window over the farmland she had purchased. She envisioned a future where their lives were filled with the joyous laughter of children and the peaceful contentment of animals grazing on the land. She daydreamed of self-sufficiency – the possibility of relying on only herself (and Nancy of course), was liberating.

It was soon time to collect Oliver from school. The coachman was the only member of staff Isabella had refused to dismiss when they moved to the countryside. She had become accustomed to travelling in comfort and had struggled with the idea of relying on her own two feet for most of her travel. Nancy had rolled her eyes at the Lady and snickered at her extravagance but had privately relished the notion of no longer needing to rely on her own two feet! Many years of hard ground on Nancy’s feet had left them callused and blemished, much unlike Isabella’s untainted ivory extremities.

The carriage appeared in the sweeping driveway, the clip-clop of hooves emanating through the air. The two heavy set horses that towed the coach were all black, with feathered feet and free flowing manes. A white mist was expelled from their nostrils with each breath, signalling the bitterly cold temperature of the winter’s day.

“Hurry up Nance, we are going to be late!” Isabella called over her shoulder. Nancy was scrambling to find her trusty three-cornered hat in the kitchen. She tripped over the doorstep as she made to jog over to the carriage. Nancy’s clumsiness and lack of cool composure often surfaced around Isabella, even now. She cursed beneath her breath, but also fondly reminisced of the times she had made a fool of herself in front of the regal lady when they had first begun to spend time together. She chuckled lightly as she swung herself into the coach where Isabella was already sat waiting, pretty as ever.

The coachman whipped the reins and made a clicking noise with his tongue; the horses began to move, a slow walk at first, only speeding to a steady trot once they had manoeuvred out of the farmyard. Nancy watched the countryside flashing past her as they travelled, whilst Isabella wittered about Oliver, Sophia, the house, the land, her wishes, hopes, dreams. Nancy smiled gently to herself. This happiness she felt was still so overwhelming. She was safe, financially stable for the first time in her life. She lived in a beautiful place and took great pleasure in watching the rolling hills move in and out of frame through the window. Isabella’s voice was filled with enthusiasm, her low but emphatic tone rested upon Nancy like a soothing balm. Often, it didn’t matter what Isabella was talking about, just the fact that she was speaking pleased Nancy.

They soon arrived at Oliver’s school where he was waiting patiently in his thick woollen shorts, smartly pressed shirt and knee-high grey socks. His ginger hair was scruffier than ever from a long day of learning and playing in the cold wind and rain. He ran over to the carriage as he did each day, where Nancy helped to lift him inside. He chuckled as Nancy tickled his ribs gently as she set him down on the bench beside her.

“How’s ya day been, lambkin?” Nancy asked him, endearingly. She rubbed her hand roughly through his hair with a smirk.

“Tell me all about it, my darling.” Isabella added tenderly. She smiled a soft and genuine smile at her ward. Isabella was beaming. Motherhood suited her so well. She so enjoyed having Oliver in her care, feeling as if she could reclaim the many lost years of Sophia’s childhood. It was painful to think about, but Oliver’s presence seemed to ease the wound, or at least distracted her from the grief.

Oliver chattered happily the whole journey home. Nancy and Isabella nodded and made small verbal acknowledgments of his adventures, but remained mostly quiet, enjoying the innocent nattering. On such a frosty winter’s day, the carriage was filled with a homely kind of warmth.

When they returned, they were surprised to find a carriage at the house, headed by two dapple grey horses. Confused and not recognising the unexplained appearance, Nancy jumped out of the coach the moment it stopped. Thankfully, her eager protectiveness was unnecessary when she noticed Sophia and her friend, Hannah emerge from behind the horses.

“We weren’t expectin’ to see ya till this evening.” Nancy said, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

Isabella climbed down from the carriage before lifting Oliver out safely. She waved off the coachman with thanks and he turned the horses back down the long farm track.

“Sophia!” Oliver yelled as he bounded towards her with glee. The young lady grinned from ear to ear and opened her arms out in anticipation. When Oliver reached her, Sophia scooped him up into her arms and nuzzled into his face affectionately.

“Had a good day?” she asked him. Oliver nodded enthusiastically.

“Sophia, what are you doing home so early?” Isabella asked, a note of concern tainting her words.

Sophia’s cheeks flushed and she looked down as if to avoid the unavoidable question.

“Sophia.” Isabella said, more demanding now. “What have you done?”

“Oh mother,” she sighed, still not making eye contact. “She really needed somewhere to stay, somewhere to live, where she could be looked after…” Sophia spoke carefully, softly.

Isabella’s mouth fell open in shock. Her usually kind features contorted into a stern glare. There was no room for another person in the farmhouse. It was of a good size, but most of the rooms were still in a state of disrepair until they had found the time and energy to clear and beautify them.

“S-Sophia,” she stumbled. “Let’s talk about this inside.” She gestured towards the house. “I am so sorry, Hannah.” she said, offering Sophia’s friend an apologetic look.

Sophia looked confused, before bursting into laughter. Hannah was giggling too, her curled ringlets bouncing with her over-exaggerated movements. “Mother, I am not talking about Hannah! She has a perfectly fine life with her parents.” Sophia chortled.

Visibly relieved and just a little embarrassed, Isabella sighed, her face softening once again. Nancy interjected. “What on Earth are ya talking ‘bout then, Sophia?”

Sophia and Hannah exchanged a nervous glance. Sophia gently put Oliver down, who promptly ran over to Nancy, clutching at the ornate buttons on her tailcoat jacket. Tentatively, Sophia reached into the carriage and pulled out a moderately sized and fairly battered cardboard box.

“Oh Nance, I cannot look.” Isabella exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand to her face. She imagined a half dead cat or a scabby stray dog or something equally as terrifying. Nancy strode up to Sophia and folded the flaps of the cardboard box away. A theatrical flap of wings caught Nancy off guard, and she stumbled backwards, gasping and holding her hat.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” she muttered. Sophia and Hannah’s laughter radiated outwards, laughter that came from deep inside their bellies and their eyes glinted with mischief.

“Nance, what is that?!” questioned Isabella fearfully. She gripped Oliver’s tiny hand for emotional support. He looked up at his mother with large, inquisitive eyes. “What is it, Ma?” he asked. She shook her head with uncertainty.

Sophia put the box down on its side so that the scrawny creature inside could easily creep out into the daylight. After a few tentative moments, a skinny auburn hen stepped out into the cold air before twisting its head around, not unlike an owl, scrutinising its surroundings. It flapped its wings again, shedding a feather or two, and made a loud _buk-buk-buk._ Oliver squealed and clapped his hands. He looked up at Isabella, beaming at her.

“Ma, we have a chicken!” he shrieked.

“Hmm, it appears that you are right.” Isabella responded unconvincingly.

“She needs somewhere safe to live.” Sophia declared in a matter of fact manner.

“My father was going to cull her, as she has not laid an egg in several weeks.” Hannah added, her voice tinged with sadness.

“And you offered to bring ‘er here?” Nancy asked Sophia, quizzically.

“Well, we have plenty of land.” she shrugged. “Mother always dreamt of keeping animals.”

Nancy shot Isabella a steely glance.

“Well, I did…” Isabella began. “I did not imagine it to be quite like this though.” she said, eyeing the scruffy looking chicken, who was now pecking the ground contentedly. 

Hannah smiled. “Look, she likes it here… I must go now; mother and father will be angry that I stole her. Father was going to serve her this weekend for dinner.” Oliver blinked in shock. Isabella put her arm around his small frame and pulled him in close to her hip, stroking his shoulder. Hannah mouthed ‘sorry’ to Isabella as she climbed into the carriage. She waved to Sophia and as the coach pulled away, Hannah peeked out of the window. “By the way, her name is Margaret!” she yelled, before disappearing down the lane.

_Mags,_ Nancy thought, an electric shock sensation shooting through her chest. Even here, she couldn’t escape the woman. Her first love. She would always hold a special place in her heart, although it was a love that could never have been. She wistfully thought about Mags and her life in America. Nancy chuckled aloud. “She always did have a slippery neck.” she grumbled, smiling at Isabella.


	5. The Dream Begins (Unconventional As Always)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fitful night worrying about Margaret, Nancy does what she needs to ease Isabella's concerns.

Following Margaret’s unexpected arrival at the farm, Nancy had spent the next several hours diligently building a makeshift structure for her to stay in temporarily, until something more permanent could be constructed. Isabella had yelled useless instructions from the path, refusing to get her good boots muddy. Margaret the chicken strutted nonchalantly around Nancy’s feet as she laboured over the structure, offering a cantankerous peck here and there to remind her of her presence. This had left Nancy cursing at the hen and swiping it away with the back of her hand whilst Isabella, Sophia and Oliver howled with laughter from beyond the fence.

As the household had retired to bed that evening after a hot bowl of Nancy’s homemade soup, the topic of conversation continued to revolve around Margaret the chicken. Isabella and Nancy climbed into the opulent four poster bed wearily. It had been a day of surprise and hard graft (for Nancy anyway, unless Isabella considered laughter to be a workout)!

“Nance, I feel quite concerned about Margaret.” Isabella uttered softly; her brow furrowed with worry.

“Why Bell?” Nancy replied. “She’s safe enough for now, my construction skills are enough to outwit the smartest fox. D’ya doubt me?”

“No, it isn’t you, Nance.” Isabella sighed, leaning in close and laying her head on Nancy’s chest. She breathed in her intoxicating scent, peppery and spicy with a trace of the sweat of her skin from the day. She wrapped her arm around Nancy’s waist and looked up at her with a doe-like expression. “You know… Chickens were not created to be lone creatures. I read all about them as a girl. I fantasised about this place, the children, the animals, the…” she hesitated for a moment and lowered her eyelids. “The… wife.”

“The wife, ay?” Nancy smirked, the corner of her lip curling.

“Oh stop it now.” Isabella remarked, poking Nancy in the ribs playfully. “What I am trying to say is that Margaret cannot live alone. She requires the company of other birds. She will live a sad and lonely life without that. I cannot be party to that.”

Nancy’s smirk softened. She melted at Isabella’s sensitivity for a creature as trivial as a hen that was destined for the dinner table. She gently lifted Isabella’s chin with her rough fingers and looked into those captivating sapphire eyes. “Don’t you worry dove; the bird’ll be just fine. She’s made of strong stuff, just like her namesake.”

Isabella forced a small smile, but in reality, her heart sank into a deep pit. She knew she felt too deeply, too sensitively. She worried her bottom lip as her concerns played on her mind, deep into the night. Nancy had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted from the physical work of the afternoon, but Isabella lay with wide eyes. She agonised over the prospect of the chicken suffering, relating too deeply to her own past, alone and isolated. An unexpected, solitary tear rolled down Isabella’s cheek as she recounted the emotions of those times. Isabella breathed into Nancy’s shift once again until she fell into a fitful slumber.

When morning came, Nancy woke first. Feeling refreshed, she yawned and stretched and looked at Isabella. Her view was not the usual soft, contented, sleepy expression, but a tense frown causing creases to form on Isabella’s forehead. Nancy leant over and tenderly kissed the unrelenting frown.

“Isabella, my love.” she whispered huskily. “Wake up, my beautiful girl.” She peppered kisses over her head between words until the harsh frown began to loosen its grasp.

Isabella opened her eyes tentatively, squinting from the light that streamed through the large sash window. She rubbed her eyes before she realised her head and neck ached terribly. Wrapping her fingers around the back of her neck, she massaged the base of her skull. A grunt escaped her lips as she manipulated the tight muscles there.

“Let me.” Nancy insisted.

“Thank you.” replied Isabella, rolling over onto her front to allow easy access to her sore, stressed muscles. She shuddered as Nancy pulled the lacy chemise down off the lady’s shoulders, revealing the freckled skin beneath. Isabella exhaled audibly when Nancy’s rough fingertips began to work the knots in an expert fashion. Isabella let out a satisfying groan as the tension began to yield.

“What’s got ya in such a muddle?” Nancy asked, perplexed and apparently oblivious to Isabella’s stress.

“The damned chicken.” Isabella muttered into the feather pillow. It was unlike her to curse in this way, especially over something as minor as a rescued hen.

Nancy rolled her eyes skyward. Leaning over Isabella’s back, she landed a kiss on her dishevelled dark head of hair. “Don’t you worry ya pretty little head about that bird no more.” Nancy demanded. “I’ll sort it for ya. You’ll see.” With that, Nancy clambered out of the bed and dressed in haste before leaving the room.

Confused, Isabella lifted her head and stared at the bedroom door which was left ajar.

“Nance – where are you going?” she called, but there was no response.

The day was long without Nancy’s presence. Isabella spent the morning playing with Oliver in front of the warming fireplace, although her mind was still stuck firmly in Margaret’s world. She had refused to go out to see the chicken when Oliver had asked, saying it was far too cold. But really, she could not bare to see the creature alone.

It was nearing dusk when Nancy finally arrived home. Isabella had started to become terribly worried and tried to busy herself talking mindlessly to Sophia about Christmas. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the heels of Nancy’s boots approaching. As the heavy door opened into the warm light of the kitchen, Isabella rushed towards Nancy and threw her arms around her slender frame.

“Nancy Birch! Where on Earth have you been?”

Nancy shook her head. “You’ll see m’lady.” she said, before planting a kiss on Isabella’s lips. Her mouth was as sweet as a ripe fig. It was difficult for her not to become lost in that moment. After a long day trawling round London, Nancy was pleased to be home. The smell of Isabella’s perfume mixed with the smoky scent of fire crashed over Nancy like a powerful wave. Pushing the feeling aside, she gently eased away from Isabella’s caress.

“Put on your cape,” she gestured to the heavy woollen cloak hanging on the door. She reached for a lantern and lit it on the stove.

Isabella raised an eyebrow suspiciously but knew better than to question Nancy when she had that mischievous twinkle in her eye. She pulled the thick cape around her shoulders and fastened the tie loosely around her chest before following Nancy out into quickly darkening farmyard. Hesitantly, Isabella followed Nancy, her eyes taking some time to adjust to the darkness.

“Come on girl!” Nancy growled with mock impatience, grasping Isabella’s hand and pulling her along.

The pair reached the long drive of the farmhouse and were greeted by what could only be described as a very ‘farmy’ smell. Isabella’s stomach churned as she wondered what mischief Nancy had gotten herself into while she was gone. Nancy set the lantern on one of the thick fence posts and Isabella stepped forward. The smell was stronger now, and the noise of incessant clucking and gobbling filled the atmosphere as the pair moved nearer to the source. As Isabella’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, assisted by the lantern, she could make out the small feathered bodies of a handful of chickens.

“N-Nance… What? Where did you get these from?” she asked, her voice wavering, half due to the cold air, half the shock of yet more animals arriving at the farm.

“Bought ‘em from the livestock market, didn’t I?” Isabella could hear Nancy’s smile as she spoke with an element of pride. Nancy cocked her head as she observed Isabella watching the new flock. “I didn’t want ya to be so upset about Margaret being alone, so I brought her some pals!”

“But, they have nowhere to live!” Isabella exclaimed, dropping her head into her hands. “That makeshift…” She struggled to find the right word. “Thing, it is far too small for all of those birds!”

Nancy placed a reassuring hand on Isabella’s upper back and rubbed it. “I’ve got a fella comin’ to build a shed for us tomorra’. Owes me a favour.” Isabella wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. She presumed this ‘fella’ was an old cull of hers. Trying to push the intruding thought away, she released a deep sigh and turned towards Nancy, planting her hands on her chest and fiddling with the embroidery of her coat.

“Thank you.” she said simply. Nancy’s approach to things always did seem a little unconventional to Isabella. She had a way of making things happen, even if not in the way one expected. She supposed she should be grateful that her dreams were slowly coming to fruition, although totally out of her own control. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the absurdity of it all.

Nancy looked up at Isabella, who stood much taller than her. The pale lantern illuminated the soft features of her face, those huge haunting eyes, those plush tempting lips, the unblemished skin sparsely adorned with light freckles. Still, the lady entranced Nancy. She thought about whether she should tell Isabella about the two turkeys she rescued too but thought better of it. ‘Enough shock for one night’, she thought to herself. Instead, she rested her gloved hand on Isabella’s cheek which was beginning to flush rosily in the bitter evening air.

“I want to give ya all the things you dream of.” Nancy said with a sincerity that was rare for her. Her interactions were often laced with sarcasm or humour, a coping mechanism developed due to many years of pain and grief. She felt this was her dream too now. To live here with her lady, to nurture and care for others in a way the two of them had never experienced in their youth. She would make it happen for them both.

Isabella looked shy and demure for a moment. It was so unfamiliar for someone to be willing to do whatever it took to make her happy. Feeling incredibly blessed, Isabella studied Nancy’s angular face, the squareness of her jaw that suited her so well, those lips chapped from the bitter weather, her hair, black as the night, which was falling around her face, escaping from the low ribbon at the nape of her neck. Isabella slowly edged closer to Nancy’s face, until their lips united. The deep kiss was warm against the biting cold around them. Hot breath escaped as pale white mist as Isabella showed Nancy her gratitude as she best knew how.


	6. A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy is eaten up by a dark secret. Isabella comforts her.

The fire roared in the cosy sitting room. Isabella rested easily on a floral chaise whilst Nancy paced back and forth across the room.

“Nance, what is wrong with you? What time is your…” she hesitated. “Friend due to arrive?”

Nancy became noticeably more irritated at the mention of this ‘friend’ and paced harder and faster. Her breathing became unsteady. She stopped at the window, looking out into the fog filled yard. It was almost midday, but the sun had still failed to make an appearance and there was an icy layer of frost resting over the ground.

“He was supposed to be here first thing, bloody hours ago.” Nancy growled, trying to control her temper.

“It’s okay, Nance,” Isabella offered softly.

“No. It’s not.” Nancy snapped harshly. “He shoulda been here by now. Bastard lobcock!” She gritted her teeth and sighed, exasperated, steadying herself with an arm outstretched against the window frame. Her fevered breath steamed up the glass.

Isabella stood up slowly and swayed over to where Nancy was stood. She put her hand over Nancy’s, against the window frame, Isabella’s long arm adjacent to the Nancy’s much shorter ones. The warmth of Isabella’s palm over her knuckles made her flinch. She busied her attention on a line of dust on the wooden sill. Isabella rested her chin on the back of Nancy’s shoulder.

“Nancy, what is it? You can tell me.” she whispered, soothingly. “It’s not at all like you to be in such a state.”

Silence was the only response offered. Isabella knew there was more to this tale than she had been told. She felt a little nauseous at the distressing possibilities that could be causing Nancy to act so out of character. She ran her free hand through Nancy’s midnight black hair, smoothing it away from her pale face.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, my love.” Isabella whispered, hiding her own worries and seeking to only reassure the woman, who was a picture of angst.

Nancy’s troubled rage was palpable, and it was growing. Her chest heaved and she fiddled with her riding crop with her free hand.

“Nance-”

Nancy violently shrugged Isabella’s hands off her and moved like an angry storm towards the door. Shocked, Isabella remained by the window, but turned to watch her lover march away from her. Her hands felt lost for a moment and they hovered momentarily, as if suspended in space and time. This time, it was Isabella who remained silent.

Once Nancy had reached the door, she had stopped in her tracks. Her fists were clenched as she turned her back to the door and leant her whole body back against it. She let the solid wood take her weight as she collapsed into a heap on the floor. Stifled sobs became visible in the heaving motion of her shoulders, audible in the small gasps that she struggled to hide.

Isabella’s heart ached. There were still times when Nancy was a secret, a closed book, something forbidden that was almost impossible to unlock. Gently, she approached her fragile frame without getting too close. She stopped a few steps away and dropped down to the cold wooden floor.

“Nancy, my love,” she whispered. “Can I touch you?”

Puffy, tear stained eyes peered up from beneath crossed arms and met Isabella’s. Nancy gave a weak nod before hiding her pained face once more.

The lady lifted her skirts and shuffled closer, leaning against the door too before opening her arms and pulling Nancy towards her by the shoulder. Nancy was stiff against her touch but let herself be guided, her head coming to rest on her ample bosom. The two sat silently for some time, until Nancy began to soften again, her sharp edges soothed by Isabella’s warmth. The scent of her skin was intoxicating. It was impossible not to be pacified by her familiar, floral scent. Isabella’s strong arms were firm and comforting. 

“Your ‘friend’, the fellow who was going to build a shed, this is about him, is it not?” Isabella enquired gently.

Nancy nodded. She looked so fragile in this moment, as weak and frail as an orphaned blackbird. She rarely revealed this part of herself, even to Isabella. The part that was filled with generational grief and shame.

“He’s no friend of mine no more.” uttered Nancy, her voice weak and shaking.

“Please, my love. Tell me what happened.”

“I’ve let you down Bell. I’ve let myself down.” Nancy muttered huskily. “Said he’d build this damn shed for me if I just…” her voice trailed off.

Isabella felt as if her heart hit the ground like lead. She closed her eyes and clutched Nancy closer to her chest, not wanting to ever let her go. She didn’t need to hear anymore to confirm what she had already suspected.

“Oh Nancy,” she sighed, her own voice tinged with pain. Isabella kissed the top of her head, inhaling the smoky, peppery scent of her hair. The pair stayed this way for a long time, neither of them knew how long for, but long enough for their backsides to become numb from the cold floor. Nancy’s shame filled tears were gradually replaced with steadier breathing.

Giving Nancy an affirming squeeze, Isabella shuffled around uncomfortably.

“Come on, Nance. We could always use the barn for the chickens. It would be perfect shelter for the winter weather. In the summertime, they can wander freely on the farm.”

Nancy’s eyes brightened at the idea. Her posture changed. She began to regain a little of her fortitude. “The barn ay?” she asked, a wicked grin beginning to curl her lips. She remembered the last time they had been in the barn together. She licked her bottom lip.

Isabella playfully swatted at Nancy before rising to her feet, then reached down to pull Nancy up too.

“Come on, let’s get this done.” she said with conviction.

The pair bundled themselves in extra shawls before heading out to the barn.


	7. Till I Gain Control Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy regains control in the only way she knows how. Isabella considers healthier coping mechanisms but decides to indulge in Nancy's domineering side, and enjoys every minute.

As Nancy pulled open the heavy barn door, they were greeted by a mess of straw and hay scattered about the place, just as they had left it a few weeks earlier. It was a huge job and would take days to make the barn suitable for Mags and her new companions.

Isabella closed the door behind them and revelled in the shelter from the harsh wind, her eyes closed, savouring the solace. When she opened them again, Nancy was stood before her, hands planted against the wooden barn door, one on either side of Isabella’s neck. Her face, although lower than Isabella’s due to the height difference, was just inches away from hers as she looked up at her reddening cheeks.

Fighting back the urge to stop Nancy before she even started something, Isabella considered her options. Nancy might still be a secret at times, but she was also very predictable, especially to Isabella. The Lady had catalogued all of her quirks over several years of companionship and had become adept at recognising what behaviour would likely follow on from a range of different situations. It might not be the healthiest coping mechanism for Nancy to take control of her emotional situation, but who was Isabella to complain at the prospect of being governed by the handsome woman before her? Her commanding presence was indomitable. Isabella decided to indulge in Nancy’s intentions. Without a doubt, she would benefit too.

Nancy captivated Isabella, the angular shape of her hip bones beneath her tight breeches, her stance imposing and brimming with confidence despite her slight frame and prior vulnerable state, her eyes… Oh those steely blue eyes that glistened with mischief. Sometimes Isabella swore they darkened to a smoky charcoal colour when lust overcame her.

A gasp resonated around the large barn when Nancy firmly but carefully placed one hand around Isabella’s pale throat. Nancy inhaled sharply at her response with gritted teeth. Once a dominatrix, always a dominatrix. The overriding sense of being in control was both soothing and exhilarating to Nancy, especially with her lover and companion. There was an unspoken decree that Nancy would never push Isabella beyond her limits. It had taken a little time for Isabella to trust Nancy in this way. Desire and domination had been a traumatic notion for the Lady before she had met Charlotte and the others at Greek Street. The same was almost true for Nancy. Of course, she had preferred humiliating and whipping men compared to the alternative options, but nothing ignited her like Isabella did.

Isabella strained to reach forward to kiss Nancy, but the grip around her throat held fast. “N-Nance…” she whined through pursed lips. A heat burned within her, arising from Nancy’s hand around her neck and travelling around her body, with particularly intense sensation coming to rest in her chest and between her thighs. Isabella’s eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Lady Isabella, I’m goin’ to be your fuckstress.” Nancy hissed, rising up onto her tiptoes and breathing against her left ear. “And I’m goin’ to chastise you until ya beg me to have mercy on you.”

A stifled whimper escaped Isabella’s mouth. “Will you whip me?” she asked coyly, biting her bottom lip seductively and eyeing the riding crop tucked into the side of her breeches.

Nancy smirked. “I’ll whip you till all you can moan is my name.”

The fingers enclosed around Isabella’s delicate throat slid around to the back of her neck as Nancy pushed her forward, guiding her towards one of the hay bales.

“Now, bend over that. And lift your skirts.” she demanded. Her authority bent Isabella to her every will. The flustered woman obeyed. She knelt on the ground which was padded with stray clumps of hay. Isabella leaned over the square bale before ruffling up her plum coloured skirt to reveal porcelain thighs.

“Higher.” Nancy insisted firmly.

Isabella complied, pulling the linen fabric higher until it gathered at her cinched waist. Her curved white arse was now fully visible. Nancy drank in the sight, inebriated by the spectacle before her.

“That’s right.” Nancy muttered, ogling that flawless skin, pale as moonlight.

Isabella peered over her shoulder to catch Nancy pulling out the tan leather crop and inspecting it keenly, turning it over in her gloved hands. A surge of adrenaline engulfed Isabella and fluttered in the heat of her core. She felt goose bumps garnish her bare skin in anticipation.

Nancy widened her legs over Isabella, affording her the most effective position. Bending at the hips, she gathered the curling locks of Isabella’s hair and twisted them around her hand, leaving just a few stray strands to fall around her face and neck. She pulled. Just enough pressure to tilt her head backwards and expose that delicate neck to the cold air of the barn.

Isabella felt herself becoming slick with arousal. She groaned with lustful expectancy. She hoped that Nancy would minimise the teasing today. She could barely stand it.

Slowly, gently, Nancy trailed the leather riding crop from Isabella’s calf up towards her rear, provoking a pleasurable shiver. She tightened her grip on the taut hair in her left hand. Isabella moaned eagerly.

“Nancy-”

“Silence, girl!” Nancy interrupted.

Retracting the crop away from Isabella’s skin, she felt a scorching fire burning inside her. Nancy nibbled her bottom lip. She was going to relish this. Eyes narrowed; Nancy spanked Isabella’s backside just once. The crisp sound of leather on flesh rang in both their ears. Isabella gasped, her whole body convulsing beneath Nancy’s commandeering presence. A red welt was already beginning to surface on the pale flesh. Nancy smirked.

She drew back the whip again and swished it through the air until it made contact with Isabella’s rear a second time. The sound of the leather colliding with the atmosphere made a satisfying _swoosh_ until it reached its target, concluding in a sharp _snap_. Isabella cried out, half in pleasure, half in pain. She drew her hand to her face and bit her own knuckles as she winced from the impact. She was desperate for more contact and she hinted at this by deepening the arch of her back. As the stinging pain dulled, the pleasurable burn increased, but Nancy did not strike her a third time.

Completely under Nancy’s spell, Isabella growled, her voice partly muffled by her knuckles. Knuckles which suggested she had broken the skin if the metallic taste was anything to go by.

“Don’t stop.” she whined.

“I’ll stop whenever I decide to stop.”

“Please, my fuckstress.” Isabella purred in a low tone.

Nancy’s eyes widened at hearing the term from her lover’s mouth. Her flat chest heaved as her breathing became raspy, overcome by wanting. She felt her nipples stiffen beneath her blouse. It was impossible for Nancy to deny Isabella. Her whole posture screamed desire. Her arched back, her swollen arse now sporting two very beautiful crimson stripes and her melody, the way she indicated her pain, pleasure and everything in between with that sultry voice.

Nancy surrendered to her request. She whipped the reddened flesh over and over, her left hand still firmly twisting Isabella’s hair with each contribution. With each spank, Isabella’s reaction intensified. Animalistic groans filled the space, interspersed with gasps, yelps and panting. Nancy’s panting matched Isabella’s as the punishment peaked.

“N-N-Nancy… Oh Nancy,” she whimpered weakly. Her heaving chest was threatening to escape her stays.

Nancy threw the riding crop onto the ground. She released her grip on Isabella’s hair, letting it fall freely around her neck and back once more. Isabella dropped her head down, letting it relax. The release of pressure on her scalp felt the way it did after releasing her wig after a long day wearing her social mask. Nancy gently caressed the curvature of Isabella’s arse, tracing the red and purple marks she had left, eliciting a small gasp when she trailed her fingers over the more recent ones.

Nancy’s eyes roved over the vision before her until her gaze settled on Isabella’s gleaming folds between her thighs. The pink flesh peeking out from her centre, framed by each round arse cheek made Nancy crave the tight heat of her cunt.

Isabella could sense where Nancy’s gaze was focussed so she inverted her back further to afford her a better view. She widened her legs too. The glistening lips gently parted as she did so. Isabella ached to be filled, to warm Nancy’s cold fingers inside her blazing core.

Nancy’s head spun. She raised one leg to rest it on the hay bale for both comfort and stability. She plunged two fingers into Isabella’s cunt which accepted her readily. The wet heat evoked a primal growl from deep within Nancy’s chest. Isabella’s hungry moans emboldened Nancy, encouraging her to increase the pace. As her fingers repeatedly curled and unfurled, Isabella’s legs trembled.

“Yes!” Isabella rasped. “I am forever at your mercy.”

Nancy’s face contorted from one of primal passion to a smug grin. She replaced her fingers with her thumb and lightly danced her fingers around Isabella’s clit until she felt the lady unravelling before her. She felt the weight of her fall onto her hand, her core pulsating around her thumb.

Isabella collapsed in a heap over the hay bale, breathless and spent. Nancy perched on the edge of the bale and stroked Isabella’s hair tenderly. She suddenly felt calm, serene, peaceful even. Her face softened; her shame dissipated. The generational grief washed ashore with gentle lapping waves. The waves moved in their liquid robes, in and out, in time with Isabella’s rhythmic breathing which was gradually slowing.

Was she healed by this angel? Or just gloriously distracted? Either way, she thanked Isabella with a soft kiss atop her head. 


End file.
